People Don't Build Walls
by CaribbeanAzure
Summary: Young Robin must learn to deal with the aftermath of tragedy and that loyalty to one's friends is a must. Robin and Much friendship.


_People Don't Build Walls_

Deliberately, Robin picked up a smooth rock and skipped it across the stream. He smiled expressively when it hit the other side. The five year old that was with him attempted in vain to do the same, the rock sunk as soon as it touched the water. Robin bent down to show the little boy, Don, how to skip a proper rock. Don was practically the little brother Robin didn't have. The same went with all the Binder children and some, like Rebekah, he could hardly escape from.

Robin took a breath of fresh air and began to march back into the direction of the house. Don, seeing that his guide was abandoning him, sped after the twelve year-old and snatched the larger hand in his own. Robin loved the fact that the children adored him and looked up to him like an older brother. It might fill his young ego, but Robin had also made a creed to himself, that he would do anything in his power to protect this family.

Robin approached the dwelling with a hint of trepidation - there was a horse, one that he had never seen before, tethered to the tree next to the house. Robin paused outside the door to hear talking inside and Mother Binder's voice was catching, "Oh, no. No."

Robin stepped in, clutching Don's hand so tight that the five year-old let out a pained squeak. He coughed to make his presents known, and the man that was speaking to his almost mother turned around. He was dressed in dirt caked clothes, as if he had raced from the middle of plowing a field to come here. His face had no wrinkles of laughter tugging at his eyes, only lines of worry and sadness.

Robin felt a strong fear grip his chest at the way the two were looking at him, faces filled with grief and concern for the unknowing lad. "What is it?" Robin managed to gulp out the words as he locked eyes with the two adults.

The stranger took off his cap and pushed his fingers through his messy brown hair, "I'm sorry Master Robin."

In panic, Robin looked to Mother Binder for reassurance. "Robin," she said softly, reaching for him. "It's about Much…"

Ever so slowly, Robin dropped Don's little hand. The open door was behind him and he began to back up in the direction of it, his mind was screaming. He commenced to shake his head, first unhurriedly then violently, shouting the only word that could come to his lips, "No! No!" He could hear himself yelling words wrenched with hate and horror, anguish and anger. Robin's own din was so loud that he couldn't heed the calls of the two people for him to stop.

Suddenly, Robin found himself on the road, running like the world was caving in behind him. He didn't need to think about where he was going, he was running back to Loxley - to Much's shanty. The rough pounding that his feet were doing was making them ache. Robin didn't care.

More thoughts than the Sheriff had guards danced in his head: How? He had known that Much had a cold, but he was getting better. Wasn't he? Could that kill a person? Did someone kill him?

Robin felt the bile growing in his stomach when he reached the village. He tore past people, carts and animals in his desperate quest to reach his friend. The pond seemed to be only a blur as he ran. Running, that was helping him - helping to clear his head, keep him calm.

When he reached the hut though, Robin stopped abruptly, his front half lurching forwards as his feet planted themselves on the threshold. He steadied himself on the door frame, he didn't want to go in. Robin choked back a sob as he stuck his head through the gaping entrance. The one detail that Robin would remember throughout the rest of his life was red. There was too much red.

Frantically Robin tried to avoid the blood that was splattered, his heart sinking. The room was destroyed, the meager furniture that Much and his Uncle had was shattered and broken, laying in heaps. He tiptoed over the floor, making his way to the other end of the one room hut. Robin glanced over a pile of debris and saw a sight that made him wretch on the spot - Much's Uncle. The man's head was cracked open and he had a gaping wound in the middle of him. More red.

Robin's ears caught a small sound, a sniffle. Leaping over wreckage, Robin was on the other side of the room. He glanced around quickly and saw what he was looking for - Much was huddled in a corner, sobbing. Robin felt his heart leap - his friend was alive! The exultation subsided rapidly when he remembered Much's Uncle.

Robin crept towards the crying youth, who had his head pressed against his tugged up knees. Young Lord Loxley, laid a hand upon his friend's shaking shoulder. Robin trembled as Much suddenly flinched away from the touch with a yelp of, what seemed like, pain. Much jumped to his feet and looked at Robin, stifling a sob.

Robin didn't know what to do to help until Much, after taking in the sight of the shanty, crumpled down to the dirt floor. Robin dropped to his knees after his friend and wrapped his arms around him, slowly rocking him back and forth as Mother Binder would have done. Robin felt his shirt grow wet from Much's tears and his own vision blurred. Robin's friend had no family left now but Much had always seemed to get the raw end of the deal.

Robin and Much had lost their mothers during the same pox outbreak over five years prior but Much had also lost his father. Not even Mother Binder, who was the local healer had been able to avoid the loss of a third of Nottinghamshire's populous. Most had met an end by the time anyone even knew there was a plague. When Much was not with Robin (a rare occurrence) he helped his Uncle, who had taken him in, at the mill. Now there was no one.

Lynne Binder and her husband, James, came forthwith and found two twelve year olds with tear streaked faces, huddled in a corner of the desecrated hut. James picked up Much and began to carry the limp boy out the door, while Lynne helped Robin to his shaky feet. They took the boys back to their home, where their own expectant brood of six awaited.

James lay Much down on the small cot the boy used when he and Robin visited there. The parents ushered the littlest children away, despite Rebekah's calls of protest, leaving only Robin to sit with his friend. The brown haired boy sat on the edge of the bed, watching Much stare blankly at the ceiling, the only sound in the room was that of a child sniffling. Finally Much stopped his whimpers of fear and misery and fell into a fitful sleep. Robin kept his vigil by the bed.

To young Robin, it seemed like he had spent years there, just sitting and waiting - an eternity had passed since he had run to the shanty even though his legs still felt the sting. Apparently waking him from a thoughtless meditation, Robin was surprised when his Father, Lord Malcolm of Loxley, arrived at the Binder house. Young Loxley could hear his Father in the other room, speaking to his son's _second_ set of parents, he was asking things like how was the boy? Is he hurt? Questions of that nature. He then came into Robin, looking at the sleeping figure on the bed with such regret that it about made Robin cry again. Malcolm came and rested a large hand atop Much's head, he looked at Robin, "I'm hear to take you home Robin."

"No, I wanna stay with Much."

Lord Malcolm looked at James and Lynne. "It's alright with us. Much might need him," they looked and spoke solemnly.

Removing his hand from Much, Lord Loxley ruffled Robin's hair, smiled sadly, and quitted the room. Robin strained to hear what was said in the kitchen. He shuddered as he heard is Father say, "Robbers. Came and took everything of value, Adam tried to fight them off I suppose. They murdered him right there - not caring who they did it in front of… That poor boy."

Lynne sounded stunned, "So Much saw the whole thing?"

His Father made no reply, possibly nodding, "It was over before, Lucas heard Much's calls for help. Then he came and got you."

There was an interval of silence before Malcolm ventured another sentiment, "Do you want, or have the means, to take Much in?"

"Well, yes. We could take him," James replied in a steady voice.

At this Robin jumped up and ran into where his oddly construed family was, "No Father! Couldn't we take him? He could live with us? I'll sleep on the floor, he can have my bed."

Malcolm looked at his son's pleading face, "But wouldn't it be better for him to have a real family?"

Defiantly Robin said, placing his hands upon his hips, "We are a real family. Much would then go everywhere I went - including here. Please Father."

The older man looked from the Binders to his wisp of a boy, "We'll think about it. But for now the best thing for Much is to stay here. Get looked after by the healer, understood?"

"Yes Father!"

Over the next couple of days Much didn't stir, save the necessities. He lay on his cot, back to the world and face to the wall. Robin tried to talk to him, but the conversation was one-sided. He spoke on happy subjects attempting to lighten the mood and make Much smile. Robin's only wish was that Much reply or show any form of response, even in its smallest form. It made Robin feel guilty that he wasn't there when Much needed him, he hadn't been able to protect his best friend and now couldn't help him recover the way he should.

What really frightened Robin was the fact that Much was refusing to eat. Much had always had a good appetite, better than Robin's to tell the truth. The blond youth just let the food sit there on the bedside stand, no matter what his friend did or said to coerce him into eating. Robin helped when Mother Binder force fed the lad on the third day, after that Much ate freely.

He began to talk again too, but he wasn't his usual pessimistic yet cheery self. After a while many would have given up on Much. He took the initiative to walk away while you were speaking to him and he started being unkind when people were near. He didn't seem to be the least bit happy or even grateful, when Robin told Much that he was going to live with him and Malcolm.

Given his recent disposition, most people would have stopped trying to comfort the boy, for mostly he just told the would be soothers to let him be. But Robin was not daunted so easily - though sometimes it did get hard…

"Much," Robin heard little Clarion, who was six, saying one bright afternoon, "Will you pick some berries with me?"

Everyone loved Clarion. She was sweet, quiet, and demure, the complete opposite of her older sister Rebekah. Clarion also seemed to have a special soft spot for Much, she had taken his sorrow personally. So Robin was completely taken aback when Much snapped, "No, I don't want to pick any stupid berries!" Much stuck his hands into his pockets and stormed off to the edge of the field. Clarion, dropped to the ground and started to cry, her red hair obscuring her face.

Robin was furious, Much shouldn't - no couldn't - act like that, it was wrong and so un-Much like. But more than anything else, Robin was frightened. It was as if a new era was dawning, and their friendship had fallen in the heat of battle. The young Earl found Much sulking under a blooming cherry tree. The tree looked so young and innocent, full of life - while the new resident looked like death warmed over, one that had seen too much to speak on.

Robin had been able to identify with the loss of his mother, but he knew now that Much felt completely alone. _But I'm here, aren't I?_ Robin thought as he continued to look at his friend, who had pulled his knees to his chest and buried his head between them. Robin approached the tree and sat down next to Much. Though he didn't bother to look up Much said with a cracking voice, "Oh, master, why don't you leave me alone?"

Robin gulped but said, "Because if I did that, what kind of friend would I be? I'm here for you Much, if ever you need to talk or just sit - like now - I'm not going anywhere."

Much's shoulders started to shake, "Oh master Robin, I'm sorry. I couldn't do anything to stop them, I-I-"

"Shhhh, it's alright Much. There was nothing to do. It's going to be alright. Hey, as I said before Father said you can live with us. He even had a room prepared for ya. Please Much, please don't cry." Under the cherry tree a new era did dawn, the loss of innocence but the start of complete trust and an unbreaking bond of friendship and brotherhood, far stronger than formerly.

Much took a small peak at Robin, giving a faint smile. Unable to contain his joy at breaking through, Robin grinned broadly, "It's going to get better, Much. We just have to remember the good times."

"But master," Much wailed. "That's all I have - memories."

"You still got me. And I promise that as long as I _live_, I won't leave you."

"Considering my luck, if that was supposed to be encouraging, master Robin, I think you were off on the mark."

"Hey, a man can only do so much, Much," Robin replied, throwing his hands into the air.

Much laughed, whether at the fact that Robin referred to himself as a 'man' or the witticism on his name, he didn't know. What Much did know was that this talk under the tree was helping.

Slowly over the next few weeks, as the old Much began to resurface, things got back to normal and life continued on it's merry way. Robin was still making sure that he was there whenever his friend needed him, and he began to see it as something that was expected of him - not something he could do out of his own selfless interest. This was his friend they were speaking of, of course he would stand by his side.

So when Mother Binder told him that it was a brave thing to do, sticking by Much like that, Robin simply said a 'Thank you' and was going to let it drop, when he saw Rebekah swiping several piping hot tarts off the counter. She looked at him, begging him to keep her secret as she mouthed the words, "For Much." Everyone had been doing nice things for Much, such as slipping him extra treats. Clarion even went as far as to give up her dessert to him once, and Robin knew with all his heart that was something that a six year old doesn't take lightly.

So for the sake of Rebekah, Robin tried to keep Mother Binder's attention on him a moment longer by asking a question that had, in reality, been bothering him, "But why did he act like that? Like he was trying to keep everyone out?"

"Robin," Lynne said, wiping her flour dusted hands on her apron. "People don't build walls to keep others out, but to see who loves them enough to break the walls down."

_A/N I am sorry this is sad story and to top that off I don't like sad stories! But sometimes they need to be written for the tale, as a whole, to move on properly. This account just called for me to write it, and so I obliged. I hope that Robin showed his best side in his brotherly affection for Much. Love it or hate it, we needed to know what happened to Much's family. **And** love it or hate it, please tell me in the form of a review, what you think or any suggestions you might have. Just as a reminder this is part of my AU Robin Hood story, hence the O/Cs. Also, if Much seems out of character, remember: he has just been through a horrible trauma and is having trouble dealing with the aftermath. _

**_(And yes, for those who read it before… I noticed I had a time sequence wrong and had to fix it. Sorry for the confusion…)_**


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